


Home On a Range

by hollowbethy



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Fandom, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 19:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7186532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollowbethy/pseuds/hollowbethy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik Lehnsherr, after everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home On a Range

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting and of course the tags are a mess, if you are willing to help me sort this out I'd be glad to add and of course, suggestions are also welcome. 
> 
> Now this chapter is inspired by Happy Times by Bob Cosby :)

 

 

 

> **_Wish on the moon_ **
> 
> **_And look for the gold in a rainbow_ **
> 
> **_And you’ll find a happy time_ **

Erik shuts his eyes from his now dark room after he turned the lampshade off. As the radio lingers through his ears beside him on the nightstand he recollects himself from the farthest memory he could recall from the past 30 years of his life. After all, he could tell himself that he was in a state of languor although there are still matters in need of tinkering. Like how he lost all of the most important people in his life, parents, wife and even the person he gave a pact that no one will ever take him away, now he wishes for her to sing the lullaby to sleep in whatever Yahweh’s paradise and be reunited with them after all of this, in which he could say it will take a much longer time. But if there’s one thing that’s keeping him on foot, the first ever memory flashes on his mind as if it was just yesterday.

In the body of water, he sure can snap a metal to someone’s back and they’d lost the opportunity to live their lives but within the depths of waves he had not exceeded to that point just yet. The submarine’s light little by little it vanishes.  He desperately stretches out his hands not knowing he’d die first before it obeys upon his laws, but if this will cause the perishing of the menace that had created the monster in him he’d be as well _die in peace_. Yet it wasn’t just the incapability of manipulating metal while at sea, at such rate of distress he thought he needed this to finally overcome his demons. What happened next was unexpected, only a grope of slender arms wrapped around on his chest ceased him and the connection to the comforting--almost soothing voice of the man behind him, holding from the gap that’s hastily widening.

_“You can’t, you’ll drown, you have to let go, I know what this means to you but you’re going to die. **Please Erik, Calm your mind.** ”_

How was he doing that? He thought to himself, rage brushing out of his consciousness from the voice invading—devouring—alleviating his indignation. Rising up the surface and pushing him away out of the shock. “Get off me!”

“Calm down!”—and informing the man’s associates that they’re floating in open sea in need of rescuing, as if it was the best thing that happened to him that night. On the contrary, he wanted to express his vexation to the person who prevented him from his course of action that almost worked, but a revelation brought him out of that mindset. “Who are you? You are in my head!”

Catching some air, he answers. “My name’s Charles Xavier.”

Erik was panting, oh did he sound curious. “You were in my head. How’d you do that?”

“You have your tricks, I have mine, just **calm your mind**.”

“I thought I was alone.”

“You’re not alone. Erik , you are not alone.”

This was the man who believed in him, that out of all his amount of rage rushing through his veins fueling his powers, hammering frustrations of failed attempt to kill the man inside that submarine and countless regrets he had to conquer that, even it was trifling at first that there’s still something that’s good upon him.

 

> **_You’ll hear a tune_ **
> 
> **_That lives in the heart of a blue bird_ **
> 
> **_And you’ll find a happy time._ **

On the other hand, this man had a sister, an adopted sister named Raven who may perhaps be also the person who influenced him to drive on the path of his own finite principles.  It was a concern for another day of course but it simply struck _bullseye_ on the formulation of the existence of mutants amongst humans. He had overheard the conversation between Hank and Raven about how they are _desperate (_ as long as he wasn’t violating anyone’s perspective) to be normal.

“By the way, if I look like you, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

After fostered on the CIA facility and whatnot, he began his search for the documents of Shaw for he might as deserved to kill this man on his hands for the vengeance of his mother’s death. But what else had emerged on that? His abilities, his powers making him who he was. Who else matters? Only himself does, and no one can stop him. Although he was wrong, someone could stop him.

“I can help you.”

Help him? Not a chance, he already knew how to take care of himself.

“Don’t kid yourself, I know you needed my help last night. It’s not just me you walking away from. Here you have a chance to be part of something much bigger than yourself.”

 “I won’t stop you leaving, I could. But I won’t.”

“Shaw’s got friends. You could with some.”

Those words caught him, was he just having a sense of entitlement and this man was making it worse or perhaps he could do some who has the same objectives with him? He hesitated with the process of finding recruitments with the use of the man’s abilities, nevertheless this threaded to the journey founding the rest of their lives, forever.  No one understands another person’s notions and feelings entirely, but Erik might want to put that in defense after he was able to turn the satellite disk in front of them. Interlinked to the nature of acceptance of capabilities of a person who doesn’t realize it until someone reminds him that even if chaos prevails, there will always be a glimpse of hope in every man’s mind that drives them to surpass the hurdles of life, as such to embrace it is to have certainty. A light flickering and static as the hollowed air vanishes like smoke brushed off by a dab of wind when their eyes met, that in every coin, theirs always two sides to be considered: _rage and serenity_.

Happy times, the song said. But what comes next on his resonating didn’t seem to be qualified on that category.

The vivid memory of him stepping out of the room from their intense discourse from their chess game: It wasn’t because of the obvious fact that perhaps the telepath have been cheating this whole game, nevertheless it challenged him to keep his surface thoughts thrown out of the board as quickly as possible to prevent any of that kind of extortion. It was where their ideologies smashed in collision, thinking it might be inelastic but it’s otherwise. Definite, still crashed one another in a velocity and direction implausible to counteract. It daunted him first, and then a swirling sensation grew on his stomach, only to look at those precious blue eyes with no utterance. Charles and he believe they are the better men, and he wants him to understand that revelation of their race would only embark on which humanity is always in nature of: ousting peculiarity for they fear of change even if it’s all around them, and they were no options for their principles stands by them like a thick wall.  A partition of their similarity.

 

> **_Though things may look very dark_ **
> 
> **_Your dream is not in vein_ **
> 
> **_For when do you find the rainbow?_ **
> 
> **_Only after rain_ **

 “ _Erik you’ve reach the void._ ” The same voice, guides Erik to the submarine that crashed on the seashore of Cuba by his outmost abilities. He was astounded by the actions he had done, but there is no space for celebrating just yet.

“He’s not here Charles, Shaw’s not here! He’s left the sub!”

Desperation hollers onto his mind, but Charles persisted. “What? He’s got to be there! He has to be! Keep looking!”

 “And I’m telling you he’s not, there’s no one here g-ddamint!” A long time ago he would’ve have not any way say that word since it’s a sting of his principles, yet after seeing the man with his helmet on gladly to see him, there he was his creator, the one who made him the weapon of today and nothing else will stop him from vengeance for his mother’s death in his lair, he may just want to keep that guilt aside.  In hindsight, the agony filtered on his stomach rushes all throughout his body and a notion assimilated the satisfaction he was longing, it **controlled him**.

_This is our time, our age, we are the future of the human race, you and me, **son.** This world could be ours_

Fragments of those memories, he couldn’t pinpoint as much he had said for he had embodied this ideology a long time ago. But in the context of retaliation, a sorry wasn’t enough for what he has suffered long his life.

The long wait is over.

_One,_

_two,_

_three._

The coin midair passes right through the center of the man’s forehead reaching perhaps for salvation, well the world doesn’t grant his wish. Diminishing the fact that it was not just Shaw’s head or life shattering into pieces like the glasses from the void scattered on the floor, but also the man who he had founded himself into. Reminding him of the partition they had discovered at the night before this all went down. There was churning, satisfying and levitating sensation on his chest after the coin dropped on the floor. It all happened, everything went to plan, it was done. What his creator left, a gospel he had fully been absorbed by his raging mind that peace was never an option, otherwise is unnecessary. Humans are the enemies, _united in their fear of the unknown._ **They are the future** , and this is what is supposed to be known.

“Erik you said we are the **better men** , now it’s time to prove it!”

“There are thousand men in those ships, good honest innocent men. They are just following orders!”

And that wasn’t just it, he didn’t understand, no he doesn’t understand, and he wants him to comprehend all of the actions he just did and about to do so before he counterattacks, he utters.

“I’ve been in the mercy of men just following orders. **_Never again_** _.”_

Sure he had his moment.

Gunshot slipped on the direction that was supposed to be deflected, body quavering in pain dropped on the grainy sands of what supposed to be a beautiful, glorious day of 1963. Nothing ever ringed his ears viciously, whilst of deaths he witnessed, only to bring back the memories of his mother, Edie’s death in front of his bare innocent eyes. If he were to compare it, it’s almost as similar: painful and regretful. He could’ve controlled the bullet like the coin he crossed on Shaw’s head leading to his death and everything else will follow, but one sentence didn’t.

“My friend, I’m sorry, but we do not.”

> **_So wish on the moon_ **
> 
> **_And someday it may be tomorrow_ **
> 
> **_You will suddenly hear chimes_ **
> 
> **_And you’ll have your happy, happy time_ **

Was this the happy time the song was pertaining? He might as well sort it out of his mind and say, life’s not full of sunshine and rainbows and he believes that downfall perhaps, may be, an acclaim of salvation. But definitely, it’s the most memorable.


End file.
